


C'est la Vie

by flippinsirens



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, High School AU, M/M, Teenagers, brief descriptions of child abuse after the fact, no powers, or something resembling that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 17:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3142565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippinsirens/pseuds/flippinsirens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is a normal senior at a normal highschool with a decidedly less than normal group of friends. His life is the epitome of any American High-School Boy's life. So normal, in fact, that sometimes it's just a matter of not talking about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Senior Year is Going to be Great

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a work that was commissioned for me to write, but, unfortunately, I haven't heard back from the woman who commissioned it. So, as it states in my Guidelines, I have the right to post it for others to enjoy as well. So, well, here you go. Also, the chapters will be kinda short. Only maybe 1K words or so each.

This was it. This was the moment, the year, which would change everything for Clint. Senior year. And, fine, though he knew how cliché that was to say—after all, every adult had said to him that senior year would be an important year and to make the most of it—he honestly felt as if it were the truth. His home life wasn’t the best, to put it mildly, but better than most. But, he was determined to get out on his own, to make something of himself, to get away. Senior year was his ticket to that, he was sure of it.

He’d just have to study more and put more effort than he was used to into this year. He couldn’t afford otherwise.

Clint tapped the snooze button that sat atop his alarm clock. The annoying red numbers read 7:30 in the morning and he groaned in displeasure. If he didn’t have to take city transportation, he’d be able to sleep in at least another twenty minutes, he was one-hundred-percent sure of that.

Still, it was his first day of senior year and he needed to actually be awake to experience it. Tony and the Guys were sure to be waiting for him in the cafeteria before classes started anyway. So, with the prospect that he’d see his group of friends on the horizon, he dragged himself out of bed and tried to function enough to get ready for school. Which, surprisingly, actually worked.

He was just about to leave the small apartment he shared with his parents when his father entered the living room and asked him when he’d be back. Apparently, he forgot to clean some things yesterday while doing the daily chores that he needed to finish right away. Too bad the bus was about to come around and he’d miss it if he tried to do it before hand.

*~*~*

Coulson had waited around for Clint to show up, ignoring the way Tony kept staring at Steve when he wasn’t trying to instigate an argument with the other. He was also ignoring the way his stomach clenched when the five-minute bell rang and Clint still hadn’t walked through the doors.

“Chill out, man, maybe he just missed the bus,” Tony said insincerely. Don’t misunderstand—Tony cared about Clint as much as anyone else; he just did a piss-poor job of showing it.

“Perhaps.” Phil replied without much emotion behind it. He felt a familiar hand rest on his shoulder and turned to see Natasha, who held a small, sympathetic smile.

“He’ll turn up. He may miss a lot of school, but he’s never not shown up for the first day.”

“I’m glad you’re getting better at using double negatives properly, Natasha.” Phil said, obviously wanting to distract himself.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I better get going. I have my karate class soon.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at lunch.” And hopefully he’d see Clint by the end of the day.

*~*~*

Clint trudged through the dull, poorly lit hallways. He was so incredibly late and already tired; unfortunately, it was only 11: 38, so third period had just started. He still had another 5 hours to go.

Walking into the classroom late was always awkward. Everyone would stop what they were doing and just stare at you until you sat down. Even the teacher. And Clint’s third period teacher, Mr. McConachie, was notorious for his oddities. He had once ranted about toothpaste for the entire class last year when he was supposed to teach World Geography. Now, he’s moved up to World History. The joys that class must experience on a daily basis.

Once he made it to his seat, though, his classmates turned their attention back to the teacher, who was still staring at him.

“Would you like to tell us why you were late?” McConachie asked rhetorically.

Clint shrugged, “I’m already late, don’t see the point in telling you why.”

“How about so that I can decide whether to make it unexcused or not?”

“I don’t care what you want you to mark it up as, so why don’t you just leave it alone and do what you want to do?”

McConachie’s jaw twitched. “I’d like to see you after class.”

“Bet you do,” Clint mumbled under his breath as he sunk further into his seat.

With a quick glance at the analog clock above the whiteboard, Clint only wished time would speed up so that he could see his friends, and Coulson, at lunch.

*~*~*

To say Coulson was worried was an understatement. He couldn’t concentrate in his morning classes because he still hadn’t gotten a reply text from Clint and it was about ten minutes into lunch already with still no sign of the other teen.

“Uh, Coulson, I understand that you’re worried, but you need to eat. Clint will show up, soon.” Bruce said timidly, afraid to make Coulson even more on edge. It wasn’t because Bruce was afraid of Coulson getting angry at him. No, it was because it would end badly for Coulson if he snapped at Bruce. Tony did it once to Bruce during a school science project and after a truly … enlightening experience, never did it again.

They’ve also been best friends ever since that incident so it sort of worked out in the end for them.

“Hmm.” Coulson sounded as he scanned over all the heads in the cafeteria.

Until one in particular appeared around the corner.

Though the tension in Coulson’s shoulders died immediately, everyone let out a breath of relief.

“Hello, Clint.” Coulson offered, a small smile on his face at seeing his friend.

“Hey, man. Sup guys?” He replied as he sat down between Coulson and Natasha, who then rested her head on his shoulder.

The sharp intake of breath did not go amiss.

Natasha and Coulson shared a mutually concerned and pained look between them as Tony and Bruce started arguing again, and Clint and Steve began discussing battle tactics.


	2. Meet and Greet

 

It wasn’t as if everyone liked to be in Clint’s business. It’s just that his business was always more concerning or interesting, depending on the day.

So, it wasn’t really abnormal for Coulson to ask Clint why he had been late on Monday two days later when they were sitting down for lunch in Tony’s car, waiting for the high-class, obnoxious dick to get back in the car, because of _course_ they had gotten his order wrong and he wanted it fixed right now.

“Uh, I had just woken up late, s’pose,” Clint replied between a mouthful of fries.

“Oh.” Was all Coulson had to say.

That just … didn’t make sense. Even with the bus transportation system, Clint could have made it to second period. Because, even though he was a lazy shit waking up, once he was awake he stayed that way; and, usually, he never slept in pass nine o’clock.

And then there was, “How’s your shoulder?”

And all movement ceased, for just a moment.

“My what?”

“Your shoulder. When Natasha lays her head on it, you wince and hold your breath.” He looked at Clint, eyes a little wider than usual. “Not that I mean to say that I’m watching you in a very particularly stalking manner, I just mean to point out that you do it and you do it noticeably almost every time and, yeah, alright, I’m shutting up now,” and at the end, both boys were as red as a tomato, for different reasons. The fact that Coulson started to trip over his words didn’t help either.

After, it was silent in the car, save for the air conditioning and the sound of their breathing, Coulson’s a little louder than Clint’s.

Said silence, after a few moments, was starting to get a little creepy.

“Uh, Clint?”

“Hm?” The teen said without very much life to it. Slowly, Clint looked up at Coulson and he seemed to suddenly snap out of whatever it was that made his eyes go far. “Oh! Yeah, uh, sorry, just … thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’.” Another brief pause. “No, no, it’s, uh, fine. Just banged it in practice, that’s all.”

“But you don’t have practice on—“

“They started early this year!”

And there was nothing else to be said on the matter.

*~*~*

Clint has always been a hard worker, someone who would push his body to the limits just to see what he could do and when enough was enough. But there was a difference between pushing your limits and going past those limits. What he did on a daily basis between school, homework, household chores, and daily MMA practice was just barely pushing his limits. What was waiting for him at home on most days pushed him over that line.

It’s only been a few weeks since school started, and although he had spent the night at Coulson’s before, he had never once come over uninvited, in the middle of the night, with a small duffel and his backpack.

He knocked tentatively on the door, a part of him hoping that Coulson would answer it; another part hoping that they all ignored the door so that he’d be saved the embarrassment and interrogation that would follow.

A few minutes went by with no indication that someone was coming to open the door. Just as he was about to take a step off the porch, the door opened, and his stomach did a funny thing.

“Clint?”

The teen looked at the paneling on the porch.

“What, hold on—“ Coulson stepped outside and closed the door, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself, ”what are you doing?”

“Uh, just in the neighborhood?” He shrugged, finally making eye contact with Coulson, though that may have not been the best thing. “Okay, fine, so I got into an argument with my old man. Gunna let me in, it’s fucking cold.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Coulson agreed and stepped aside to let Clint in. “So, uh, just … follow me I guess. Want some Coke or …. ?”

“Nah, I just need a place to crash for the night.”

“Alright.”

And there was still nothing to be said about the matter.

*~*~*

Coulson couldn’t get this nagging feeling that something very wrong was happening at Clint’s home to go away. It had always been known that his father had had a temper problem and that his mom was an alcoholic and ex-prostitute, so, really, it was only natural that there would be problems at home. But, he never suspected to what extent the problems went. Up until today, he never really thought about it much; every family had their problems, some people just had more problems than others.

Today, though, was Clint’s thirteenth missed school day. In just the first semester. If he hadn’t been given a notice about In School Suspension, yet, they were bound to give him a truancy warrant.

And that could fuck up everything for Clint.

The night that he had come over—his excuse being an argument with his father—he had confided in Coulson more so than usual. After reminiscing about the good parts of his childhood, he had taken a few breaths and detailed why he was so excited to move away from here, this place, to go to a college so far away that his family wouldn’t think about contacting him, which is what he wanted.

It would be a lie to say that Coulson’s heart didn’t break a little when Clint’s face lit up at the idea of moving away for what seemed like forever. If he was really moving that far away, would it even be possible to contact him for the people who wanted to?

Coulson stopped that train of thought immediately.

So, if Clint had a truancy warrant, that could ruin his chances of getting into the college his heart was set on. His grades may make up for it—so far, with a lot of help from Coulson, Tony, Natasha, and Bruce, he was maintaining a perfect 4.0 GPA—but colleges don’t just look at that anymore.

 _Hey, are we still on for our study session after school?_ Coulson shot a quick text to Clint.

It was an hour before he got a reply. _Ya man just g2d smthn b4 u come over._

_I really need to break your IM text lingo habit._

_U rlly need to bring some food w/ u wen u come over_

_I will do no such thing until I receive a proper English text message :)_

_Fine. Can you please bring some food with you when you come over? Particularly study snacks. Like twizzlers?_

_Of course I can, Clint, thank you._

_Ya wutever_

And there went Coulson’s hope for Clint, but it was nice of Clint to actually try, even if it was just to have food.

A few hours later and Coulson was knocking on Clint’s door.

The person who answered it was not Clint, but a rather sour-faced, middle-aged, smelly women who looked as if she had just woken up with a hangover.

With slurred words, she asked, “Whaddya wan’?”

Coulson smiled politely. “I’m here to study with Clint. It’s for a group project we were assigned in Government.”

“You da boy who’s been helpin’ my kid with his grades?”

“Yes, and a few others.”

“Yeah? Well stop, ya don’t need to be fillin’ his head with hopes of gettin’ into a good school when he ain’t gunna be goin’ to one.”

What?

… What? Coulson blinked rapidly, a smile still forcefully plastered onto his face as his fist tightened around his backpack strap. “To be honest, ma’am, I rather disagree, and as his mother, you should hope he does get into a good school, of which you weren’t capable of, I’m sure. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to start on our study session. Thank you.” He said curtly just before shoving his way through the door and towards Clint’s room.

*~*~*


	3. End of First Semester

Chapter Three

 

Finals week. The most boring yet stressful time of the entire semester.

And Clint was ready to rip out his hair, all in one go. Studying had never been his strongest suit, and over the last few months, he’s gotten better at getting in a study routine. But, with seven exams to study for, time was of the essence. First and third periods’ exams were tomorrow—and he’ll never understand why they have them out of order like that—but he had yet to look at his notes and it’s only two hours away from midnight.

Tomorrow would be fun.

*~*~*

As predicted, the next day was completely amusing. Halfway through studying, Clint just gave up because he was too tired to focus. And, as they say, it’s better to sleep before a test than try to cram everything in—even though Clint was an expert in cramming all the material in before a test.

He had walked into his first period anxiously, wondering how hard this test was going to be. It was Statistics and the materials’ concepts were easy enough to understand, but when it came to memorizing all the scripts and formulas, he was at a slight loss. But, no matter, it was too late to care at this point. Hopefully, those extra study sessions with Tony and Bruce would pay off.

Which was weird. Tony and Bruce had become this weird …. Science couple. It’s like little red hearts would take the place of their eyes if they looked at each other and then science happens. Like, hard science. Science that would hurt Clint’s mind if tried to wrap his head around it. But, when they weren’t doing their science thing, it was just … normal. Yet, even though they had become better friends, Clint wondered if Tony would ever tell Steve about his ridiculous and somewhat offensive crush on the other. Steve respected Tony if only because Tony was sure to make excellent grades and Tony was able to easily outsmart almost everyone in the room. Tony admired Steve because, well, it was Steve. He was the good guy, the gentleman, the guy every girl wanted to be with, even though he hasn’t filled out all the way, yet, the guy that wanted to defend his country and Tony could never disrespect a soldier—even if he thought all their current technology could use a great deal of improvement.

Realizing that it was almost time for the test to be handed out, he quickly shot a message to Natasha.

_Ugh so bored and nt looking 4wrd 2 this test_

_And whose fault is that? Definitely not mine, I can tell ya that_

_You suck where’s my support?_

_You don’t get any, you decided to be a dumbass and not study in advance_

_Again u suck_

While typing another message, this one to Coulson, he realized that he and Natasha haven’t really seen each other outside of study dates and lunch. Maybe he should bring some food to her place and celebrate the passing of their first semester of Senior Year.

_What are you doing today after the exams?_

_I’m not quite sure. I was thinking about studying for tomorrow’s exams._

_That sounds boring._

_Could I come over later?_

_I don’t see why not. Were you thinking watching a few movies?_

_We can do that, sure_

_Alright, meet me in the gym after school, I’ll be running behind because I have something I need to talk about with my English teacher._

So, that was taken care of. Clint knew that he should study for his exams tomorrow but he’d much rather spend time with Coulson, just hanging out, watching movies, playing video games, talking. Truly, Coulson and he had gotten so much closer this past semester with all the extra time they spent together. Even if it meant getting home late, Clint always felt …. Better around Coulson.

The exam was handed out.

Maybe he’d look into why that was exactly later.

*~*~*

After the exams were over, Clint headed to the gym as instructed to wait for Coulson.

Coulson was … well, Coulson. He was intelligent, able to read people as if it were second nature to him; he could talk his way out of trouble (usually caused by Tony) and he could talk his way into the hearts and minds of just about anyone, making them trust him without reason to doubt his sincerity, even if he sounded rather professional and uptight most of the time. He and Steve Rogers are surely, unknowingly, competing for Valedictorian; Clint didn’t know who would win, honestly.

He went into the locker room and rummaged through the supply closet that was never locked—idiots—and managed to find the archery equipment. Their last unit in Physical Education focused on Archery and Ultimate Frisbee—needless to say that people always got upset when it was Clint’s turn to shoot because he had excellent aim and almost never missed.  The raggedy, old, school-safe, with oddly bright colours and low-level model bow felt good in his hands as he gripped it and walked back onto the basketball court with the target tucked under his arm.

After having set up his target on one end of the court, he walked to the other side, prepped his arrow, and took his first shot. It hit dead center.

Coulson had only moved here during second semester of Junior Year. Being new and quiet, Coulson didn’t really know anyone and Clint supposes he didn’t care to at the time. But a mutual lunch period had eventually brought them together in the lunch line and conversation arose. Since then … well, was it strange for two people to become so attached in such a short amount of time? Clint didn’t think so. But then again, Natasha took five years to warm up to Clint even though they had grown up together for most of their childhood.

But with Coulson, things just came so easily. Conversation rarely died and when it did, it wasn’t awkward. Clint really isn’t one to talk very much on occasion, and Coulson likes to be succinct with his words.

He shot his second arrow. It lands next to the first one.

Furthermore, Coulson always listens. It’s like he’s Clint’s personal therapist—though, Clint makes a point not to mention the bigger problems in his life. Despite that, there’s so much trust there that sometimes Clint wonders if Natasha and Coulson should be in competition for whom he trusts more.

He chuckles as he shoots his third and fourth arrow.

Looking back on Senior Year now, he realizes that he hasn’t really spent that much time with Natasha. But she’s always busy these days so he had just given up on trying to see her as much. When she finds time, they’ll get together. If, that is, he isn’t busy, or … occupied.

The fifth arrow lands three inches off center.

He wonders if Coulson is done, yet, and when he pulls out his phone to check the time, he sees that he has a missed call from his father—because of course he does—and a new voicemail.

He swallows, panic making his stomach sink and his heart disappear.

Twenty seconds late, Coulson walks in through the gym doors and Clint quickly closes his phone and slips it into his pocket.

He forces a smile, “Coulson.”

“ … Clint.” Coulson steps in front of the other. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah! Great, fantastic, why do you ask?” Maybe he answered too fast and with too much enthusiasm to be convincing.

“It looks as if you just heard that someone was going to die or something.”

He blinks and feels a tiny bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck. “Nah, it’s nothing, I’m fine.”

The other teen looks at him with eyes of doubt for a moment before nodding in resignation. “If you say so.”

Clint smiled tightly as he shot off the last five arrows. The first four hit the back wall and it’s only when Coulson tells him to relax that the last one lands in the center with the others.


	4. 'Tash, just let it go

 

It’s only the second week of Winter Break and he hurts. Everywhere. All the time.

It’s beginning to be too much. At first, he could handle it, he could take it and place on a fake smile for his friends.

But now, it takes more and more energy to put up a front and he just doesn’t have enough for it, not anymore. He hasn’t seen any of his friends since the last exam let out, and, to be honest, he doesn’t want to. Because that means that they’ll see him and he can’t let that happen. No one can know.

No one can do anything, anyway, so what would be the point?

The only thing that he thinks about on these specific days is that graduation is now only five months away.

He’ll leave this place after that.

*~*~*

It isn’t the fact that Natasha hasn’t really heard from Clint since the last exam day, or the fact that they don’t really see each other anymore. It’s the fact that she doesn’t know exactly _why_  things have gotten this way. Sure, it’s senior year and Clint and Natasha both have jobs and volunteering and school and homework and social lives outside of each other, but they’ve been connected at the hip since they were eight and now … well, now, Natasha doesn’t understand why it doesn’t feel that way anymore.

Maybe she should just go by his house later and talk to him like an adult.

Because, truth is, she misses him like a soldier would miss a limb. And each day that she sees him at lunch, it’s like a reminder of all the conversation, movie marathons, MMA practice, and actual face-time that they’ve missed. Sure, she’s helped him study a few times, but that all took place in the library where conversation was put on hold until Clint knew the material well enough to call it a night. And, yes, sometimes she’ll go to MMA practice, but she’s had to reschedule her training times and she barely goes anymore so she honestly doesn’t even see Clint that much at the dojo.

She supposes that this is a part of life.

People get busy.

They lose time for one another.

No matter, she’ll stop by Café Express and get him his White Chocolate Frappuccino with double shot espresso and surprise him. Though, really, thinking about being in his shoes, she realizes that she may not want to talk to herself … if that even makes sense.

Well, a few chocolate chip cookies should warm him up to her.

*~*~*

The doorbell rang through the tiny apartment—that half a minute long, obnoxious buzz. Clint sighed in annoyance and went to answer the door, grabbing his money on the way to pay for the pizza he just ordered. When the doorbell rang again, he shouted, “Alright alright, I’m coming, hold your fucking horses!”

Which, admittedly, he wouldn’t normally be that rude to a complete stranger but seriously? That’s just fucking annoying to not wait long enough for someone to actually come to the door. Not all of us can bolt to the door in a heartbeat.

Expecting the pizza delivery asshole, he opens the door and begins to hand the bills to him, but it takes a moment for the image to click in his head.

As far as he knew, Natasha was not working at Mr. Jim’s.

But, really, the lack of pizza and a uniform could have given that away, too.

He stared at her, shocked, surprised, mortified. Blinking a few times, he steps back a little, hoping the dim light and the shadows would hide him a little bit. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

Natasha smiled and walked right past him into the apartment as she explained. “Oh, well, I was just on my way to that cute little deli you showed me last summer when I thought it’d be nice to come see you. We … haven’t really talked since finals and I kinda miss you.” Clint knew that that must have taken something out of Natasha. She wasn’t really one to express how she felt, and neither was he, so for her to say something like that she must really be hurting because of it.

“Oh. Thanks, Natasha, that’s really …. Um, but you don’t really need to stay that long. I mean, I have homework to—“

“Homework? Over winter break?” She gave him a pointed look. “Anyway, I bought your favorite chocolate laxative and some high blood sugar to go along with it.”

He couldn’t help the smile that managed to worm its way onto his face.

Reluctantly, he didn’t push her away. He shut the door and turned to take the coffee and the cookie that was extended to him without thinking about it. “Oh my god…”

And everything went so still, so very quiet for a minute.

“Natasha, it’s not what—“ he finally tried to say.

“Not what it looks like?! It looks like you got the shit beat out of you!

He really didn’t need her to raise her voice. “It’s just a few bruises! I get them all the time at practice!”

“And when was the last time you went to practice, Clint!?”

“Yesterday…”

She huffed in exasperation. “Ha, yeah? Because it was closed yesterday, dumbass. What really happened?”

“Nothing, ‘Tash, I promise.”

“You’re such a fucking liar! Was it your dad? I know he can get pretty violent some—“

“Just leave it alone!”

“No! Did you know that last semester you missed seventeen days of school? That’s not like you. As far as I can tell, you haven’t been going to practice, and you love MMA; you wouldn’t miss a single lesson.” She looked away for a minute and glanced at the pictures on the wall. None showed Clint. “You aren’t taking an in-school PE course, so those can’t be from that. And you didn’t leave school like this.”

She took a step closer and continued, softly, “Clint, I’m pretty smart. I can put two and two together, alright? Don’t bullshit me. I know it’s not from anyone in your neighborhood because you can take any of those bastards down in a single hit. So … who did this?” Concern layered every syllable, could almost hear her heart break a little as she looked over Clint’s injuries and came to her conclusions.

“’Tash, just … please, just …. It’ll be okay. I’m fine. Really … just ran into some trouble makers at a club the other night, that’s all.” He took her hand and wrapped his around it. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“ …. Hate seeing you like this and not knowing why.”

“I know. But there’s nothing you can do about it now so just … leave it alone. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can and that’s why I’m so worried because whoever did this should look worse than you but I don’t … I don’t think they do. Clint, you could take down just about anyone, and I’ve never seen you this bad before.”

He sighed, dropping their hands and bringing her into a hug. “It’ll be okay.” He kissed her cheek in comfort and muttered something unintelligible.

Pulling away with eyebrows drawn in confusion, Natasha looked at Clint’s face. A nasty, black bruise covered most of Clint’s left side, reaching from his temple to his jaw and even reaching his nose. It didn’t look like one hit, though, but multiple in a row. Looking at his hands, she saw that one of his pinkies looked like it had broken a while ago and he hadn’t set it right. How long ago could that have been? While they were in school? Why didn’t she notice? Did Coulson notice? She hoped so; he’d want to know.

Fuck, maybe that’s why no one’s really heard or seen Clint since school let out. If he’s been like this a while … and if he’s even hiding it from Coulson …. Shit.

“Alright,” Natasha said after a moment, “I trust you. But promise me that you’ll put a stop to this, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” He hurried to say.

“Okay. Well, I have to go. I just wanted to stop by to see how you were doing.”

He nodded.

“Maybe we could have a Matrix Marathon next weekend?” She asked.

“Yeah, sounds good. Invite the whole gang and make sure we end up at Tony’s.”

“You know we will. Tony likes to show off his new ‘toys’.”

“Yes and I love his toys.”

“Boys, I swear.”

He chuckled as he let her go. As she walked by him to get to the door, she gently kissed his good cheek. “See you later, then.”

“Yeah, later.”

She left, closing the door behind her.

And he lowered himself to the floor, holding his head in his hands and trying not to shatter.


	5. Ring Ring Ring

School has started again.

Clint now has something to occupy himself the majority of the day with and anything to occupy himself is greatly appreciated these days.

Natasha was still worried about Clint, but hadn’t come by unexpectedly since that first time and she hasn’t been asking questions.

Tony and Steve were closer than ever, apparently, because they were always around each other now. It’s only been three days back, but you’d think they were the world’s prime candidates for enemies-turned-lovers award, damn.

Bruce and Tony, as always, would constantly babble science nonsense to see whose ‘Arc Reactor’, as they call it, would last the longest and with the least side effects. There was always something about Gamma Radiation by no one really knows what Bruce means save for Tony and they’re both really hush-hush about that topic for some reason.

Coulson is just as professionally odd as ever while trying not to be too condescending or anxious or antisocial. He’s also trying to make sure that Clint is eating right because in the last three days during lunch, he hasn’t seen Clint eat a thing and that worries him.

It’s all just another day, another lesson, five more months.

~*~*~

The second week back and the frigid air is making everyone much less happy than normal.

Well, everyone except Steve, of course.

“So, hey, um … If everyone wants, it’s supposed to snow really hard Friday night, and we have a three day weekend, so I thought … well, I thought it’d be nice if we all went skiing in Colorado. My treat. Technically Stark’s treat but I persuaded him.”

Tony interjected soon after, “Yes! My funds will … fund this expedition to the glacier winds and the white snow of the mountains so that we may entertain ourselves for the weekend while guzzling great amounts of—“

“Jesus, Stark, shut up.” Natasha shushed him. He was annoying enough without the dramatics and the Thor impersonation.

“What ice cycle melted in your bra this morning, widow?”

“How many times do I have to tell you to not call me that?”

“However many times I won’t listen to you,” he replied instantly as he picked up a rather large chunk of apple and tossed it at her, to which she threatened to throw her spaghetti at his face.

Bruce and Steve chuckled at their antics.

“You are both very childish and are very eager to outdo one another.” Coulson suggested as he popped a piece of meatball in his mouth.

“You should have seen her when we were kids,” said Clint as he took a sip of his water.

“I don’t think I’d care to, honestly,” Coulson replied, “I can’t imagine how fearsome she must have been at the age of ten.”

Clint choked on the sip of water he just took and tried to hide his laugh behind a hand and a red face.

Natasha only smiled smugly and then continued to eat her lunch. As everyone went back to their conversations, Coulson moved a little closer to Clint so as to speak to him privately.

 “So, how was your break?”

The other teen shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay I guess, didn’t really do much, y’know.”

“No, actually, because a certain someone never returned my texts or calls. Not that I think you should have because obviously I’m not trying to intrude on your personal life or obsessively contact you or anything of that nature, I’m just merely saying that I was under the impression that you were ignoring me, personally, or, in fact, everyone, and I just wanted to point out that—“

“Woah, alright, alright, man, got it,” Clint smiled. Even when Coulson was rambling and fumbling and everything was coming out wrong, he still managed to amuse Clint and make the other smile. “I was just … caught up, I guess, with, y’know … I was just trying to get some stuff done for college applications and trying to read ahead on my school work, like English, so that I can have more time during the semester to actually do homework and study rather than trying to cram everything.”

“Ah, I see.” He took a sip of his own water. “Why didn’t you call me? We could have had a study session over _Pride and Prejudice_ once you were done with it.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that but I only finished it yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Clint took another sip of his water. “So how was your—“

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“… What?” Clint asked, as if the question itself was preposterous.

“You have lost significant weight since break began and that was only a month ago and for the last three days, you haven’t been eating anything at lunch.”

Clint blinked and swallowed, losing eye contact with Coulson.

“And you can’t lie to me.”

Clint knew this was accurate. Even though they haven’t really known each other for that long, Clint and Coulson had found that it was nearly impossible to keep anything from each other—something that is extremely annoying.

“Just … haven’t really been that hungry.”

“….. Truly?”

Clint nodded.

Coulson merely continued eating his lunch, maintaining eye contact with Clint for as long as Clint held his.

~*~*~

“Heeeeeey, Clint, what’s up?”

Clint looked over at his alarm clock.

“Tash, it’s six o’clock in the morning.” He grumbled groggily.

“Yeah, I know.”

“On a _Saturday_.”

“I know that, too.”

“Why the hell are you calling?”

“Wanna get out of the house with me? I’m so bored right now.”

“You wouldn’t be bored if you were asleep.”

“Yes I would be.”

“Try it, maybe you’ll like it.”

“I’m not so su—“

“Goodbye, Natasha, see you Monday.”

“Hey wai—“

He hung up and rolled back over, shutting his eyes and hoping that he wouldn’t be disturbed for another few hours.

~*~*~

“It’s Coulson.”

“I know, I have Caller ID.”

“Right. Well, anyway, you up for a study party at Tony’s tonight?”

“Definitely not.”

“Why?”

“I have …. Some stuff to take of.”

“Hmm, maybe some other time, then.”

“Yeah maybe.”

Clint ended the call and went back to cleaning.

~*~*~  
The calls kept coming. Each more and more annoying and invasive and original than the last.

Soon, he noticed a pattern. Always in the early morning, right after noon, and somewhere between ten and midnight.

He’s not sure if they’ve caught on.

He’s not sure if he’s been hiding it like he should, like he was told.

The calls keep coming.

~*~*~

“Hey, Clint, it’s Coulson—“

“Oh, he-hey, now’s not really a good time!”

“I just wanted to call to see if you—are you working out?”

“… uh, yeah, just got done, actually.”

“Oh, okay….?”

“Why say it like that?”

“Oh, um, no reason. It’s just that … nevermind.”

“What, you checking up on me?”

“No, I honestly was just trying to see if you wanted to—“

“What? Get out of the house? Go see a movie? Have some lunch? We aren’t a couple Coulson, you aren’t my guardian, don’t fucking check up on me! I’m fucking fine! And I’d be better if you and Natasha would stop fucking calling me every goddamn hour!”

His cellphone hit the wall and shattered instantly.


	6. It's Been A While

 

It’s been approximately three weeks, two days, and five hours since Clint and Phil have spoken. It’s been two hours less since Clint and Natasha have spoken.

It’s been about four days since anyone has seen Clint.

~*~*~

February 10th comes around and it’s been eleven days since anyone has spoken to, heard about, or seen Clint.

He’s considered truant.

~*~*~

“Hi, I was wondering if Clint was in today?”

“Who the hell is this?” A woman with a hoarse voice asked.

“Coulson. I’m a frie—“

“He doesn’t have any friends and he ain’t here so stop callin’!” A series of phlegmy coughs came through.

“It’s just that he hasn’t been at school for a while and I was wondering if he was sick or—“

“What the fuck did I just say! He. Ain’t. Here.”

The only sound after that was the distinct _click_ of the call ending.

~*~*~

A harsh knock came to his door and he honestly didn’t know what to do. His mother and father weren’t home and he was in bed, getting over a cold he managed to get while wondering around for two days.

“Clint!” Comes a voice and, distantly, he recognizes it as Tony’s. Tony never comes over; he didn’t even think the brilliant teen even knew where he lived.

“Clint, come on, open up, I know you’re in there!” Tony barks out when there isn’t an answer.

Clint just ignores him and hopes that he doesn’t try to break in; he wouldn’t know how to explain that to his parents.

~*~*~

March comes around.

The air is still chilled and freezes one down to the marrow of their bones and even in the slight warmth of the cafeteria, there are droves of students huddled closer together with thick layers on. Of course the heater just had to break down.

Coulson, Tony, Natasha and Bruce are all sitting down barely eating. There’s a tension between them because none of their efforts to communicate to Clint have worked and everyone knows what is happening, they just can’t do anything about it because they don’t actually _know_. There’s proof, but there’s not proof that _they_ are responsible. And, although they all agree, no one talks about it. No one brings it up; it’s as if it isn’t happening because if they don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist and it’ll fix itself.

Just another one of those unspeakable things that people just hope will stop on its own one day.

Coulson is just about to clear his throat to speak when a very familiar figure slides in right next to him, sitting so close that their thighs touch and their knees knock together. Coulson’s smile is too bright, too happy, too … excited. But he just can’t help it, not when Clint is sitting right there, so close to him, and not broken, and not dead, and very much alive and _here._

“Hey, guys, what’d I miss?” Clint asks nonchalantly as he starts digging into his meal.

And just like that, the tension breaks, and they all talk about what’s happened at school: Mrs. Harris has apparently been sleeping with Mr. Douglas and now there’s rumour about two divorces happening; the football team has lost almost every single game but the lacrosse team is doing just fine; Principal Edwards is leaving at the end of this month and the Vice Principal from their rival school will be here until school ends. They all talk about everything as if it is perfectly normal for one student to miss so much school, for one student to be AWOL for a month without letting anyone know about his whereabouts or what he was doing.

No one asks him.

No one mentions his absence in any way.

No one has any idea how to approach the obvious elephant in the room.

And so they don’t.

~*~*~

Coulson must either be brave or incredibly stupid because he does eventually approach the corpulent elephant in the room without any preamble at all.

He and Clint just got done running about a couple of miles, something that Clint wanted to start doing and mentioned to Coulson in hopes he’d tag along (as if Coulson wouldn’t say no to Clint, really).

Panting and out of breath, Coulson gripped Clint’s arm, who was as put together as ever because God forbid the teen break a sweat or lose his breath. “So …. Have you … solved it? Did you call someone?”

Clint blinked, honestly looking confused before realization dawned on him. “Phil—“

“Clint.”

“Look, I …. There are things …. I just …. Can we not talk about that?”

Coulson shook his head. “Sorry, no can do. I’m … worried for you.”

“I know you are but … things will get better.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then I’ll handle it, alright? But I don’t need you breathing down my neck about this, okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Coulson said as he started walking away from Clint. Sometimes the other teen could be so irritating and so blind.

Clint’s face twisted up in silent rage. Who was Coulson to say these things? Who was Coulson to try to protect him, to get him help, to worry about him? Life and all the horrible things that happen in it had taught him that no one will be there. No one will come running when things get too messed up. No one will be able to protect you and there will always be something to bring you down. You can’t rely on people. You can’t rely on your friends. _No one loves you, Clint, you’re a worthless sack of shit that we should’ve gotten rid of when we had the chance. But now we’re stuck with ya and all your shit and you’re gunna be good for nothin’ kid, just like your father—like your mother—she’s a whore and she been sleepin’ ‘round on me, I’mma teach her a lesson an’ you’re gunna watch—he’s just another bad apple and you’re gunna be folowin’ in his footsteps, ya little shit!...._

Slowly lowering himself to the cement under his feet, Clint could do nothing but cry. He hadn’t cried for months now, and he was hoping everything would be over before he had a chance to do so again. He hated this, feeling vulnerable, feeling like everything was his fault. But, everything was, right? That’s what he had been told his whole life. The tears, silent and steady at first, came rushing out, a relentless torrent of everything he had been unable to voice, everything that he had been unable to stop before it happened, everything that he had been unable to handle.

He didn’t realize it when a pair of arms circled around him, pulling him into a warm embrace, fingers pushing his hair back. He didn’t realize that he was clutching those arms so hard, he’d leave bruises. He just kept sobbing. That’s all he could do.

Those arms stayed there for hours.


End file.
